


Lord McKay and Mr. Sheppard

by melagan



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Harlequin, M/M, Regency Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:34:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26122798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melagan/pseuds/melagan
Summary: Jeannie's insistent matchmaking attempts were beyond the pale. He straightened his cuffs and firmed his chin.  Rodney decided he'd had enough. It was time to put a stop to it.In which Lord Meredith Rodney McKay hires Mr. Sheppard to solve his problems.
Relationships: Rodney McKay/John Sheppard
Comments: 27
Kudos: 119
Collections: Unconventional Courtship





	Lord McKay and Mr. Sheppard

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Unconventional Courtship](https://unconventionalcourtship.dreamwidth.org/) challenge 2020

"Milord, you can't possibly be serious."

Lord Meredith Rodney McKay lifted one eyebrow and pinned his manservant with an annoyed glare. "I do believe I am. And I shall most certainly follow through with my plan, Tunney."

"Lady Jeannie, will not approve, sir."

"Ah, yes. My sister." Rodney pressed his lips together. That was the rub now, wasn't it? He'd allowed Jeannie to hire his staff for him. While it had seemed a convenience at the time, she'd managed to turn the lot of them into her personal spies. 

Very little Rodney did failed to arrive at his sister's ears. He couldn't approach a gaming hell or horse race without her finding out. That would be fine if she'd just let him enjoy himself.  
But no, she had to voice her concerns, repeatedly, regarding his reputation, his purse, and more to the point, his chances of making an eligible match. 

He gazed into the mirror and considered his reflection. Blue eyes, a widow's peak in its infancy, and a trim physique, if a tad soft about the middle. Perhaps he really should walk more. Rodney pulled in his gut and smoothed down the front of his waistcoat. Fair enough. 

He took a step back and considered the rest. His attire was as fashionable as he had the patience for. He knew he turned a good calf on the dance floor and had no complaints about his shoulders. 

As one of the town's most eligible bachelors and just hitting his prime at thirty, Rodney's status and wealth made him a prime target for any eligible miss. However, he had no intention of putting himself on the marriage mart for some cotton-headed debutante. 

Jeannie's insistent matchmaking attempts were beyond the pale. He straightened his cuffs and firmed his chin. He'd had enough. It was time to put a stop to it. 

"Consider your duties discharged, Tunney. I won't be needing your services for the rest of the day. Possibly for the rest of the year."

"Sir?"

"I'm going to hire my own staff, and that includes replacing you."

Once he figured out how. Oh, of course! He needed to hire a house steward. If he started there, then he could dump the problem of hiring the rest of the staff onto his steward! Rodney preened. It was a brilliant solution. He really was a genius. 

He shooed his manservant toward the door. "Well, go on. And on your way out tell the footman to bring my carriage around."

~***~

Rodney shoved his papers back into the leather folder with an annoyed huff. It was frustrating enough to try to read in a rocking chaise, but, devil-take-it, now he was held up by an accident on the road. Intolerable!

Overtaken by curiosity, and hoping no one was hurt, he peered out the window. Some farmer's cart had tangled with a coach and come out the worse for it. No bodies were lying about, but one of the cart's wheels was a splintered mess. 

A tall, lean fellow with unruly hair—no doubt a result of the accident—was busy calming the horses. Rodney took a moment to admire his…efficiency. Yes, that was it. Efficiency. 

The gentleman certainly had a capable way about him. With a skillful pair of hands, and a calm, almost lazy demeanor, he had the horses gentled within minutes. 

Rodney relaxed back in his seat. Now that was the kind of talent he needed to run his household. Before he could get a name, his driver pulled away from the scene, and they were on their way to the races. With a minor regret at his missed opportunity, he went back to reading. He only hoped the delay didn't make him too late to place his bets. 

The next day Rodney sat at his writing desk with his betting form spread out in front of him, and wondered what went wrong. His equations should have worked. He should have had a 79% chance of a win. That's not what happened at all. He'd barely hit 46% and had only made a profit of two pounds. Rodney sighed. He was never going to get his observatory built at this pace. 

Chin in his hands, he frowned at the paper as if it had given him personal offense. Speaking of offense, his staff was up to something. Rodney's morning coffee was lukewarm, his eggs were cold, and he couldn't find a freshly pressed cravat anywhere in his drawer to save his life. 

Tunney must have spread the word that Rodney intended to replace them. Dang it. There was nothing for it now. His staff would make his life miserable until he did something about it. No more procrastinating. He had to hire someone today! 

Today after the lecture. And after he stopped at the new coffeehouse on the way home. Rumor had it their croissants would melt in your mouth like butter and he'd had yet to try them. 

The clock chimed on the hour and Rodney sat bolt upright. He was going to be late! He shoved his notebooks and papers into a messy pile and cussed under his breath at Tunney for not being here to help him with his coat. Rodney scooped up the mess of papers and made a beeline for the door. Thank goodness he only had two blocks to walk. 

After this, he deserved two croissants—and chocolate. 

He was almost at the lecture hall when a breeze caught one of the pages. He made a mad grab for it and never noticed the man he backed into until it was too late. He lost his grip and the entire pile slipped from his arms to scatter over the path. 

"Hey there, let me help you with that. Lorne, lend a hand here and help us pick this all up. Good day to you, sir. Allow me the introductions. I'm John Sheppard and the gentleman you backed into is Captain Lorne." John began piling the books and papers into Rodney's outstretched arms.

"Uh, thank you." Rodney stared back at the roguish hairstyle and the peculiar choice of a black neckcloth. "You! I recognize you. Sheppard you said? I'm Lord Rodney McKay. Perhaps you've heard of me? No? No matter."

"Pleased to meet your acquaintance, Lord McKay." John's response seemed a tad stiff and Rodney began to panic. He needed someone with the ability to handle a crisis be it a runaway cart or a clumsy tumble in the street. John Sheppard was too perfect to let get away a second time.

"Wait. I—I admit I don’t precisely know who you are. I've never heard of any Mr. John Sheppard that's published any papers of import.…" Rodney took a breath. "But I saw what you did yesterday, helping that fellow with his horse and broken cart, and well…I have a desperate need of your services!"

"So, you've never heard of me before today?" John asked.

"Unbelievable," protested Lorne. "By now, I thought everyone would have heard of—" 

John waved his hand effectively shutting off the comment. "I'm of no importance, Lord McKay, there's no reason at all you should have heard of me. Now, what can I do for you?"

"You strike me a quite the capable fellow, Mr. Sheppard. Just the sort of man I need. I'd like to hire you." 

John's eyes were glimmering with mirth as he patted the final page on top of the pile in Rodney's arms. "Well, with that kind of enthusiasm you've certainly piqued my interest."

"Really? Wonderful! Take my card." Rodney craned his head towards his pocket and Lorne lifted out his calling card. "Come 'round this afternoon after tea. Is that too soon?"

"Not at all. I look forward to it." John nodded his head good-bye, and he and Lorne walked away leaving Rodney to bemoan the time. As fortunate as this encounter had been, he was going to be late.

~***~

John was in the den sitting at his new desk when Rodney walked in. Rodney stood watching for a moment as John carefully jotted down figures in a paperbound notebook. After a moment John looked up and smiled.

"Well? When does my new staff start?" Rodney asked. "You'll do all the interviewing naturally, as I am far too busy to be bothered." 

He watched John's reaction closely, unsure still if the man might walk out and quit. John wasn't touchy per se but he definitely had a mind of his own. Rodney was learning to tread carefully.

"Rodney, there's nothing wrong with the staff you have."

His face fell. They'd had this discussion before and this time didn't seem to be any different. Oh, he'd played the—I'm the Lord agree or leave—card. And John Sheppard had gotten up to leave. 

He couldn't risk that again. In the short two weeks he'd been here, John had become absolutely vital to Rodney's well-being. 

"I've interviewed them all, and they are all excellent at their duties," John explained patiently. He stood up and came over to Rodney, his calm, steady gaze enough to soothe Rodney's frazzled nerves. 

"But my sister!"

"I've spoken to your sister. She only wants the best for you and is just concerned you'll become a lonely, old curmudgeon."

"You mean she's so wrapped up in her own marital bliss that she can't bear to see me remain single."

John laughed. "Something like that."

"But, John. I like being single!"

"You've never thought about sharing your life, your dreams, and your passions with another? Another that felt as you?" 

"I suppose. If I could truly find someone that understood me like that." When had John's eyes turned such a beguiling shade of green, Rodney wondered. Did he even know he had tiny, crinkly, laugh lines at the corners of his eyes? Suddenly aware he was staring, Rodney ducked his head and pretended to be interested in the papers on the desk.

"Please pay attention, Rodney. I've promised your sister that you will indeed attend the occasional ball—ah—" John raised his hand. "Without complaint, McKay. In return, Lady Jeannie will stop prying into your affairs. Agreed?"

"Okay. If I have to." Rodney frowned. "You know I hate dressing up for those things."

John leaned close and whispered in his ear. "By the time I'm done with you, you'll have the chits all batting their eyelashes at you, and their mamas all aflutter at what a fine catch you are."

"Goose feathers! That's the exact opposite of what I want," Rodney managed to sputter. John's warmth breath against his cheek making it impossible to put any steam behind his protest.

John slowly backed away. "We'll see if I can't arrange for you to have some fun just the same. There is a cotillion Saturday evening at Lady Elizabeth's. I've already replied saying you'll be there."

"This Saturday? I can't possibly."

"You can. Cheer up, Rodney. I made certain that it won't interfere with any of your academic pursuits. Besides, if anyone needed to relax and have a good time, it's you."

**Saturday~**

His feet hurt. The room was too hot, the beverage in his hand too weak, and Tunney was being a dimwitted ignoramus. 

"If you don't hold still, milord, and put that drink down, I'm never going to get you ready for the dance in time.

"Well, which is it? Put my drink down or hold still? Egad, what in that tiny brain of yours makes you think I can do both at the same time!"

"If you don't cooperate, I'm going to tell Mr. Sheppard," Tunney threatened.

"You wouldn't!"

Tunney plastered on a greasy smile. "I will. Just see if I won't." He removed the glass from Rodney's hand and held up the waistcoat. 

With a put-upon sigh, Rodney allowed Tunney to finish dressing him. He put a stop to it when Tunney tried to button the waistcoat for him. "Enough. I can manage my own fastenings."

"Very good, sir. Just the boots and tailcoat now and you'll be as fit and shiny as a sixpence."

Rodney glared but acquiesced. He might manage the boots by himself, but the tailcoat was tailored to his exact measurements. Easing it over the full sleeves of his shirt would be a challenge. 

Once done, Tunney stood back and made a show of dusting off nonexistent lint. "That Sheppard fellow has a keen sense of style if I say so myself. He's done you up nicely, picking out that blue brocade. He was right about it matching your eyes."

"Maybe. You don't think the breeches are too snug?" Rodney asked. They certainly seemed to show off more of his manly charms than he was accustomed to.

"There's nothing wrong with being fashionable, milord."

"Still, it seems—"

"None of that, milord, you look fine."

Rodney finished dressing under Tunney's watchful eye. He dithered as long as possible before finally giving in. There was nothing more he could do to delay the inevitable. 

"Best be getting on, milord. You don't want to displease Lady Jeannie by arriving too late." Tunney held out Rodney's greatcoat and hat. 

Rodney's shoulders slumped. It looked like wasn't getting out of this.

~***~

Bored. So bored. The blonde, blue-eyed damsel clinging to Rodney's arm tittered and flapped her eyelashes. She'd been going on and on about something too nonsensical to keep his attention. Lace gingham? No, that didn’t seem right.

Rodney gently tried to pry her fingers from his arm. He'd wager his best horse that Jeannie was behind this. "I don't care how much money I have, not a cent is going towards my future wife's wardrobe. She can get her father to pay for it. That's what a dowry is for!"

"Well! I never!" She dropped his arm and flounced off.

"Of course not, Rodney muttered, "you're not bright enough to figure it out on your own." 

He absently smoothed out the wrinkles on his sleeve. What a waste of an evening. He could have been spending it with Sheppard over a game of cards.

Instead, he was here dealing with the witless. If the foolish chit had half a brain, she'd have realized that despite his words, Rodney would gladly share his fortune with the love of his life. If he ever found one.

He caught his sister's eyes. She looked resplendent this evening in a powder blue gown and a sprig of baby's breath in her hair. Marriage certainly agreed with her. Rodney forgave her on the spot for all of her interference. Impossible not to in the face of her happiness. 

Jeannie walked up to him. "Rodney, you aren't leaving already? You've only danced twice." She frowned. "You don't see anyone here that appeals to you? Not even a little?"

Rodney fondly pressed her hand. "I'm simply fatigued, Jeannie. Too many late nights at home."

She raised her eyebrows. "Really. How so?"

"I told you I hired a house steward. Mr. Sheppard is a miracle worker. Things have never run so smoothly nor—you'll be pleased to hear—have my books been in better balance."

"Then why the late nights?"

Rodney couldn't keep from grinning. "We've been discussing the plans for my observatory. John's got a keen eye for spatial distance and head for strategic planning. As good as my original plan was, he's improved it four-fold. Not that I shall be telling him that."

Jeannie glanced down at his breeches and sighed. "Oh, Rodney. If only you could be half as excited about making an eligible match."

Satisfied that he'd made a fair attempt to appease his sister, Rodney headed home. The lights were on, and he stepped inside with a sense of relief. "John? Are you still up?"

"Right here, Rodney." John stood there, wearing a deep, red quilted robe and holding a book in his hand. His hair was a tousled mess and Rodney had the strangest urge to touch it to see if it was as soft as it looked.

John held up a book. "I was looking for something to read before heading to the servant's quarters."

"Oh, do you have to go? I just got home."

"Did you have a good time, milord? Did you meet anyone? Or perhaps I should ask if there is anyone we should expect a visit from?" John asked with uncharacteristic civility. 

"Cut the formality. After being steeped in boredom for that last three hours, I haven't the patience. Let alone enough brainpower left to remember names."

John ducked his head and smiled. "So, no proud papa with be dropping by with his calling card?" 

"Hells bells, John. Are you trying to give me nightmares?"

"Guess I could stay a little longer. Drink?"

"Yes. And don't skimp on the portion."

John poured them both a glass of port and made room on the sofa for Rodney to join him. 

Rodney put his feet up on the low table, boots and all. "Perfect."

John elbowed him in the ribs. "Your housekeeper is going to strangle you in your sleep if you leave boots marks on her sofa table."

"Nonsense. Mrs. Doran loves me, she'd never— " Rodney lifted his feet off the table. "Help me get these off?"

Between the port—because one glass alone could not erase the insipid torture he'd endured—and the awkward position they were in—it took longer than usual to remove his boots even with John's help and several glasses of wine. 

"There you go!" John fell down onto the sofa waving one of Rodney's boots in his hand. "A job well done, I say!" John's crazy smile lit up his entire face.

"Oh," Rodney breathed softly, unable to tear his gaze away. Jeannie's earlier comment regarding John finally hitting home. What was he to do now?

"What?" John's gaze was far too clear considering the amount he'd had to drink. 

"Oh, look at the time! Must get to bed, early appointment, and all that. Which you know. Of course, you know. You made the appointment." Rodney began backing away. He refused to be moved by the disappointment on John's face.

"Right. Tomorrow then." John said. He sat there holding a single, limp boot in one hand and looking for all the world like he'd just lost his best friend. 

Heart in his throat, Rodney made his escape.

~***~ 

"There's something I need to say," Rodney began. "Oh, will you bloody wait up for me so I can talk to you!"

John reined in his horse and waited for Rodney's mount to come abreast. "I thought you were in a hurry."

"Not that much of a hurry. I—I wanted to apologize for last evening."

"The great Lord McKay wants to apologize. Will wonders never cease." 

"Fine. No doubt I deserve that for my abrupt behavior last night. I was rude. Please accept that I had my reasons." 

"What reasons?" John asked.

Oh, bollocks. Well, he was just full of reasons, wasn't he? Reasons like just realizing last night how deep his affection for John had become. Or his realization that no female of any stripe could compel his interest when compared to John. 

John began to ride away.

"Wait!"

John halted and turned to face him. His face remained stony. "Say what you've got to say, milord.

"I'm truly sorry for my rudeness. Let me make it up to you, please."

A long moment passed. Finally, John's face softened. "All right."

"There's another ball in two weeks. Come with me. I'll introduce to anyone you want, with my highest recommendation."

"Are you trying to get rid of me?"

"No! I merely meant that I could introduce you to people of influence. It might serve you well in the future."

"I'll think about it. Oh, for heaven's sake, don't look so downtrodden. You're forgiven. It's just that—I don't give my friendship easily, Rodney. You might want to remember that. Now let's go look at that property before the caretaker gives up on us and locks the gate." 

Rodney was surprised to see there was an actual gate to the property. They met up with the caretaker, and made their greetings, but by then he already knew this property wouldn't do. 

He exchanged a look with John who shook his head. Good, they were in agreement. 

"Thank you for your hospitality, Mr. Grodin," John said, shaking the man's hand. "It's a fine plot of land but I'm afraid Lord McKay is looking for something with a higher rise.

"Something up on the cliffs you mean," Mr. Grodin replied. "Well, there's some land that might do, but I doubt the owner will sell. Belongs to an army major. Heard he'd recently returned from the war and looking to settle down. Rumor has it that he's a regular hero. Saved his whole regiment." 

"Thank you, and thank you again for the tea and refreshments. Lord McKay and I will be leaving now." John turned towards Rodney; a fleeting expression of unease drifted across his face.

"If you do meet him," Grodin continued, "be sure to let the Major know it would be an honor to shake his hand."

Their horses were brought around and both men mounted without delay. John seemed anxious to get as much distance as possible between them and Mr. Grodin. Rodney just wanted to get far enough away to ask a few questions without being overheard.

"I want to find out more about this property on the cliffs. If the ground is solid and the rise high enough it could be a perfect place to build my observatory. John, how long will it take you to make the inquiries?"

"Depends."

"No need to be so terse about it. Surely if this Major person is such a notorious hero, someone must know of him. He can't be that hard to find."

"I suppose not."

Rodney frowned. Try as he might, he couldn't get more than three words out of John for the rest of the ride home.

~***~

Days later John still hadn't located an address for the unknown Major. What was taking so long? Rodney felt he'd been a model of patience. Well no, not patient at all, but he had allowed John to distract him. The minor misstep in their friendship finally seemed healed. Thank goodness.

Yes, it was a painful business to guard his tongue and not reveal his feelings. What choice did he have? "Tunney, have you seen my—"

"Your new waistcoat, milord? I have it here. I admit I was doubtful about the peacock but I do believe it will suit after all."

"What about Mr. Sheppard? Is he ready yet? I know he received an invitation. He can't have forgotten the ball is tonight."

"I'm sure he hasn't forgotten." Tunney sounded slightly bemused as he added, "I know he's looking forward to it, to seeing you there."

"He's not coming with me?" 

"Mr. Sheppard made some noise about propriety. Some would consider it scandalous for a Lord such as yourself to bring a house steward to a party and then have the nerve to introduce them as their guest." Tunney sniffed. "As if you, your sister, or any of the rest of us would care two figs for that."

"Some would, Tunney. Some would care a great deal." Rodney wasn't quite sure what to think. Did John believe he was protecting Rodney's reputation? He was a damn fool if that were the case.

He took a deep breath, knowing he was as ready as Tunney could achieve. He'd been nearly spit and polished to death as it was. Since he was taking the carriage, he wasn't sure how John was traveling to the ball, but at this late hour the matter was out of his hands.

His hope of sharing a few private moments with John during their carriage ride wasn't to be. Rodney brightened. Perhaps John would arrive ahead of him and they could speak then. A few moments on the balcony together, side-by-side under the stars. 

Rodney shook his head. A romantic, foolish notion hardly becoming a man of his station. Still…who could begrudge him a simple dream? 

He arrived in at the ball in good time. Alas, John had yet to arrive. Rodney made his way to Lady Elizabeth's side to make his greeting. Bowing, he kissed her hand. As soon as he straightened, he began scanning the room.

"You seem distracted, Lord McKay," she observed. "Is something here not to your liking?" A small smile played across her lips. "The music? The décor? The food?"

"You are laughing at me," Rodney said without rancor. "As always, your parties are perfection, Elizabeth."

"And yet, it's clear that something is missing." Astutely she added, "Or someone?"

Rodney dismissed the notion with a wave of his hand. His gaze roamed over the room searching for a roguish head of hair. 

Elizabeth lightly tapped her fan against his wrist, drawing his attention back to her. "Have you heard the latest gossip about our mysterious Major?"

"What? No, what have you heard?" Elizabeth had to be referring to the same man Rodney had been trying to track down. How many mysterious majors could there be?

"Surely, you've heard of his exploits," Elizabeth teased. 

"Not really." 

"Oh, Rodney, what am I do with you? At least once in a while, you really should lift your head from those science articles and look around."

Rodney opened his mouth to protest and then gave it up for a lost cause. She did have a point. Instead, with a tilt of his head, he encouraged her to continue.

"Do you see that gentlemen standing next to Lord Caldwell's daughter? It's Captain Lorne." She delicately flicked her fan in their direction.

Lorne? Rodney immediately recognized him as the man he'd bumped into on the street. What did he have to do with any of this?

"I sent him an invitation after I found out he'd served under the Major's command. Quite a charming fellow. I do believe, even without a title or inheritance, he'd make an excellent catch. Miss Caldwell certainly seems to think so."

Rodney could see that much for himself. "You've been pumping him for information about the Major." He didn't need to make it a question.

"Of course. Did you know that the Major saved his entire regiment? Very daring-do and at great risk to his own life and limb. Captain Lorne declined from going into the details claiming they were too sordid for gentle ears. Nevertheless, it was easy enough to read the genuine admiration in his eyes." Elizabeth sighed. 

"Why, Elizabeth, do I detect a certain tendre towards the Captain?" Rodney barely flinched when she smacked him with her fan. 

With a sparkle in her eye, she added, "Rumor has it the Major intends to make an appearance here, tonight."

Rodney took a drink from the serving tray. If the Major showed up, he had every intention of cornering him. It couldn't hurt to fortify himself in case it went badly.

Mind occupied with deciding the best way to put forward his bid for the man's property, Rodney missed the Major's entrance. 

At Elizabeth's urging, he looked up to see—

"John?"

Major John Sheppard stood directly in front of him, resplendent in his officer's uniform. Rodney's mouth dropped open. Dashing didn't begin to cover it.

"Lord McKay, it's good to see you. Lady Elizabeth." John gave a courtly bow. 

Rodney was stunned. All this time John had been playing him for a fool. Every day coming in and taking care of the accounts. Running Rodney's household with—now that he knew—with the skill of a military campaign. 

He couldn't stand there and pretend nothing had changed. He couldn't leave either. Rodney's feet seemed frozen in place. 

"May I borrow Lord McKay for a few moments?" John asked Elizabeth. 

The moment she inclined her head in a yes, John grabbed Rodney by the elbow and escorted him out to the balcony. 

Unwilling to make a scene, Rodney quietly went along with him. However, the moment John closed the adjoining door to ensure their privacy he railed, "What's your game, Shepperd? Enjoying yourself making a fool of me? Who else is in on it, hm? Your little Captain out there?" Rodney wrenched his arm away from John's hold.

"No. Never. I'm not playing a game. I swear it."

Rodney turned away unable to look John in the face. The ironic cruelty of having John to himself, here under the stars, only to find he'd been made a mockery of didn't escape him. 

"You're a bastard for making me believe you were a simple commoner. Confound it, Sheppard, I hired you, treated you like staff, and it turns out you're some kind of hero. What am I supposed to think?"

"You treated me a lot better than one of the staff, Rodney." John reached out placed two fingers under Rodney's chin. With nothing more than his fingertips, he forced Rodney to turn his head and face him.

Rodney drew in a sharp breath caught by the sincerity in Sheppard's green eyes. 

"I've been hounded by both the public and the ton since I arrived. The popular Major Sheppard, suddenly everybody's friend." John's dry laugh didn't hold a trace of humor. 

"But you're a bonified hero," Rodney protested.

"Hero is a piss-word word for it. I was trying to save lives and I did what I had to do. It wasn't heroic. It was necessary." 

Rodney was listening now. How could he not after hearing the grating anger in John's voice?

"And then you came along. Do you have any idea how refreshing it was to find someone who had never heard of the Heroics-of-Major-Sheppard? On top o that, within two minutes you gave me the perfect excuse to escape it all, at least for a little while."

"I did?"

John chuckled. "You offered me a job, Rodney. By the very dint of being Lord Meredith Rodney McKay, you discouraged visitors, had no social life, and other than your sister, no one that gave a damn enough to pry into your life. Your estate was the perfect place to hide."

"Hey, I have a social life!"

"Your lectures?" John snorted. "Not what most people regard as a social life." 

Stubbornly, Rodney folded his arms across his chest. "You're not helping your case."

John ran a hand through his already tousled locks. "Point." He looked up at Rodney through his eyelashes. 

Rodney's throat went dry. "That's not playing fair. You—you can't just seduce me into—into rolling over and—and agreeing that everything is perfectly fine now."

The moment hung in the air. John's gaze never wavered and Rodney couldn't find the power to break it. "Bollocks."

He moved into Rodney's space suddenly so close that any observer might take it for an embrace. 

Swallowing thickly, Rodney placed his hand on John's chest to push him away and discovered he couldn't. No. Not couldn't. He didn’t want to. Barriers crumbling, he forgot all about the party, the warm, night breeze and the stars overhead. Instead, he couldn't seem to tear his gaze away from John's mouth.

"Rodney," John husked. "I want—"

Question, warning, or declaration, Rodney didn't care. When John's lips finally—oh Zeus—finally—pressed against his all he could do was hold on. 

"Where are you going?" he said, stunned when John began to pull away. "There should be more of that. Why isn't there more of that?"

Looking a little dazed himself, John chuckled. "Party remember? If we're out here too long someone is bound to come looking for me. Aw, don't pout." 

Rodney was about to deny the pouting when John brushed his thumb across Rodney's bottom lip and confessed, "I've been wanting to kiss you ever since we met."

John's timing was impeccable. They had no sooner stepped away from each other when one of the wait staff opened the door. "Major Sheppard, Captain Lorne has requested your presence. He asked that I inform you that he needs your help."

"With what?" John asked.

The waiter stiffly answered, "One of our guests has overindulged in drink and the Captain would like your help getting him home. "It's a Mr. Ford, sir. He said you knew him."

"I'll be right there." The waiter left and John reached out and took Rodney's hand, pressing it affectionately. "Ford is one of my men. I need to see that he gets home safe. But we're not done here."

With one last fond squeeze, John left.

Aware that John wouldn't be returning to the party, Rodney hunted down Elizabeth and made his apologies. 

"First Major Sheppard leaves early and now you?" she sighed. "I'd think my parties were falling out of favor, but I must admit you look quite overheated. I hope you're not coming down with something. Well, go on." She shooed him off with her fan.

Rodney made his escape and returned home. 

His house seemed damned empty without John there. Rodney shed his party finery and began to pull off his boots. A smile stretched across his lips as he remembered the night John and he drank and giggled like fools, all while John tried to help him take his boots off. 

His face fell. Then he'd ruined it all by being afraid and backing off. He was never going to forget the look of abandonment on John's face. At least, in time, he'd regained John's trust.

And then, tonight it all changed again. 

How they could make a future together he had no idea, but he was certain he could figure something out. He touched his hand to his mouth; remembering. 

Rodney fell asleep that night with a smile on his face.

He woke up the next morning to the smell of bangers and hotcakes. Rodney opened his eyes to see John standing at his bedside with a breakfast tray. Eyes wide open he scrambled to sit up. "How? Why?"

"I work here, remember? Oh, I know it's not part of my job to bring you breakfast but I was feeling generous."

"I—I…. For pity's sake, why would you still want to work here?"

"I couldn't leave without telling you about that cliff property you're so keen on, now could I?"

John's playful manner aside, Rodney was immediately suspicious. "Let me guess. You're not going to sell it to me."

"Sorry, but no, I'm not." John picked up a piece of sausage and teased Rodney's mouth with it until he opened up. "Ah, don't take it all at once. I wouldn't want you to choke."

Rodney felt himself flush, suddenly feeling in over his head.

"Now, let me tell you the plan." John sat down on the bed, settling in next to him as if he owned the room.

Clearly, this was John's show so Rodney shut up and chewed. 

"Major John Sheppard is going to rent his very fine piece of property to Lord Meredith Rodney McKay. Details to be arranged, but I have a feeling he'd be amenable to a lease of ninety-nine years with an option of ninety-nine more."

Rodney reached for the syrup. Not entirely by accident, a few drops landed on John's hand. Whoops. He took John's hand and chased the syrup with his tongue. He licked John's wrist, ran his tongue across John's palm, and ended by sucking on John's fingers one by one.

"You were saying?" 

"I was…"John squeaked before getting his voice under control. "Saying. I was saying something…."

"You proposed that Major Sheppard has intentions of being my landlord. I imagine this means he'll have to be there to oversee my work. Day and night if necessary. Hm, I do believe that's a reasonable offer." 

"For ninety-nine years?" John asked, hopefully. 

"Not only do I accept…." grinning, Rodney held a sausage up to John's mouth and waited for John to bite. "I'll even include breakfast."


End file.
